


Rain and Roses

by MidnightAmethyst



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Does Love Magnus, Alec Has To Choose, Angst, Drama & Romance, Emotional Manipulation, Established Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Heavy Angst, Hurt Magnus Bane, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insecure Magnus Bane, Kidnapping, Loss, M/M, Past Magnus Bane/Camille Belcourt, Past Relationship(s), Sad, Sad Alec, Suicide Attempt, Supportive Magnus Bane, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightAmethyst/pseuds/MidnightAmethyst
Summary: When it all comes down to it, Alec chooses Jace.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He waits for the inevitable and his heart breaks a little more.

"It's okay, I know what we are, and I know what we're not."  
  
-Lang Leav 

 

It was his eyes that ended it all.

His mother had loved him - in her own way. She had tried. She had been there for him, her touch light, her caresses distant, but gentle because that was all the love she could give him.

She had been happier before, loving, dotting. She had high hopes for him. And so when he was born, Magnus was the name given to him. A name that meant greatness, for a dainty hope his mother had of his being. It was a name she had found in a book, along with a picture of a tree - blood red berries and long thin leaves.

His mother had a love for all things delicate. For flowers and grass and the autumnal mist that fell less and less as the gloomy, grey clouds stretched over the skies and made the world a parched wasteland at the time.

And as the sky darkened, changing it’s delicate form, so had his eyes.

He still loved her, till this day. He had worshiped her with all the reverence of a child who saw the sun in his mother’s eyes and in her fragile smile.

But she didn’t love him enough to have stayed.

No one ever did.

 

—

 

Starting to drift off, plans and worries running amok in his mind, the door creaks open. A soft scuff, a sigh, then a few measured, quiet steps.

Magnus relaxes. It was Alexander.

Blinking sleepily, he tries to keep his breathing even - trying to appear fast asleep. He wonders what Alec would do without his supportive and urging words of comfort.

The bed shifts and protests as a new weight was being added. Alec was slipping beneath the covers behind him, his body radiating warmth. Long hands ran down his sides, pulling him closer against Alec. He shivers slightly, feeling Alec’s breath against the back of his neck. Lips soon follow, moving ever so slightly from side to side.

Alec’s fingertips stroke the edge of his silk top as he lifts the hem of it. Lips continue to press against his skin, breath hot, and he wove his fingers through Alec’s as he half leans up to help him pull the material over his head.

Wordlessly, Alec’s mouth travels down his neck to his shoulder, then along the curve of his spine and he couldn’t stop himself from uttering words of love and promise, even as Alec stayed silent.

 

—

 

They were both awake, his eyes half-lidded and watching Alec sleepily as his hand caress his back idly, passing back and forth in the shadowed hollows of his spine. They share the same pillow, the same breath and it was as close he could ever hope to get to Alec.

His hand stills.

 

—

 

He’s alone.

The morning sunlight streamed into the room and dance across the bed as leaves on a nearby tree outside are tousle by a light breeze. As he lays in silence beneath the warmth of the blanket, his eyes fall with a heavy heart upon the empty side of his bed.

He shivers slightly, his skin hums with energy, and images flash behind his eyelids as he rolls - ever so slowly - into the open space Alec left on the bed. Still warm. Everything about Alec still lingers on him.

His eyes flutter open, his nose buried deep into the blanket, into his pillow, though he deigned to be bold and peered at the open doorway. His brow settles into a contemplative line as he listens to Alec’s footfalls, so soft and precise.

He finds himself wishing for Alec’s intense touch again, his gaze focus solely on him. But clearly seeing Alec’s clothes gone and his obvious absence at his side, his soon to be departure is evident. He closes his eyes tight and curls into the diminishing warmth of the empty space for a moment. After a few seconds, he rolls onto his back, opening his eyes.

A last yearning glance at the empty space next to him, he climbs off the bed, his bare feet greeted by warm carpet as he reaches for his robe.

On his toes, his neck craned toward the open doorway, he can see the soft glow of the morning’s rays making its presence known among his darkened home. He steps forward, passing the bedroom doorway to the living area. Startled, he finds Alec there, seated on the couch. His elbows resting against his knees, his head bent, fingers pressing against his closed eyes.

“Is everything alright, darling?” He asks calmly, softly.

Alec, surprised, looks up before a small smile graces his lips, but his eyes are distant. “Uh yeah, I’m heading to the Institute actually. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Well, there were other forms of waking me,” he replies, his voice light and flirty. But the air around Alec still remains tense. “How about I make you dinner tonight? My treat. After all those dull meetings you’ll need to attend, a drink or two might help.”

Slowly, Alec makes his way toward him, his brows drawn together. He raises an eyebrow, wondering if everything was truly alright. Before he could voice his worry, Alec reaches out and grasps his chin, tips his head back, and leans down to kiss him.

He makes a small confuse noise into the kiss, and before he could reciprocate, Alec pulls back just a little, still brushing his lips over his, no less intense but oddly gentle. Alec takes a deep breath and holds his jaw in both hands, his eyes searching his face. He kisses him one last time on the mouth before he presses a kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll see you later,” Alec whispers.

Then he turns and walks out, leaving Magnus alone again.

 

—

 

“You ask for so little but give so much to so many, Magnus,” Catarina said softly. Her gaze resting on his face, her fingers gentle against his cheek.

He smiles sadly, the glass of his drink resting against his lips. “Perhaps he’s overwhelmed with his duties. It’s only been recently that he’s becoming distant.”

She sighs, palms rubbing together before hugging them against her chest. “Maybe. Everyone does react differently under stress. Afterall, you did tell us to leave you that one time in the desert because you planned to start a new life as a cactus.”

“You know my dear Catarina, things I say while inebriated should never be held against me.”

She tilted her head back, her white hair cascading down her shoulders as laughter spills from her lips. Music played faintly in the background, soothing the desolation surrounding them. Their hands stroke against the other soothingly, as her laughter subsides.

“I just - ” she pauses. “I just want you to be happy.” There is an undeniable gentleness to her voice, a whisper of grief and decades of heartache. “Are you happy?”

He closes his eyes, for a moment. “I don’t know.”

 

—

 

Happiness.

A state of well-being that encompasses living a good life, with a sense of meaning and deep satisfaction.

He doesn’t know if he will ever truly find happiness. He loves Alexander. He loves the life he has built through the years, decades - even though they were not all great, joyful moments. He loves his friends, his family ties that he has built over the years.

But deep down inside, he knows it won’t last - and so happiness escapes his grasp. For he waits for the inevitable and his heart breaks a little more.

 

—

 

He receives a text from Jace. And so he finds himself leaning against a building, his clear umbrella held tightly in his hand. Rain pattered against it, its gentle rhythm echoes loudly around him. He sees raindrops trickle down through the tear where he hadn’t quite been gentle with it upon closing it the other day.

Lightning fractures as it brightens the alleyway momentarily before darkness bathes him once more. He was warm, his bejeweled coat swaddled around him, his scarf wrapped around his shoulders. He moves his head, feeling a cool breeze move around him.

Still no Jace.

He frowns, gazing down at his phone again.

_Come alone._

Jace and him had found a steady ground with one another, where the word friend is uttered to describe the other, playfully dismayed when forced to say it in front of others. So, when he received a text from Jace, he didn’t hesitate to meet him.

It was probably important. Maybe it was about Alec. Maybe something’s wrong?

“You just had to make it easy for me, didn’t you Magnus?”

He turns, his eyes meeting Camille’s. Her heels make a sharp sound on the pavement. Rain pours over her unsheltered form. The darkness shadows her eyes, but he can clearly see her red lips smile menacingly, her teeth glinting against the light provided by the streetlight.

“I would say it’s a pleasure to see you dear Camille, but it really isn’t. What do you want? I’m rather busy,” he said airily, twisting and snapping his free hand in the air. There was a chill surrounding them he was trying to ignore.

“I’m sorry, Magnus, that it has to end this way.”

Before he could question her further, pain erupts his vision before darkness welcomes him.

_Oh, my love, welcome home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm new on here so your thoughts are much appreciated it! Magnus and Alec have been together for about four years, so Alec is a little older in this story. I wanted to explore more of Magnus's characters, his past and relationship with Alec - and Alec's ultimate choice. So we'll see how this story progresses over time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His choice. His downfall.

When Magnus comes to again, it’s cold and dark, and he can’t make out any of his surroundings. Adrenaline floods his limbs and he sits up at once, ignoring the phantom ache in his shoulder and panic runs through his veins as his wrists are being held down by black, heavy cuffs. 

“Magnus, you’re finally awake. Say, you never said your ex could be this psychotic,” says a voice; it’s deep and leveled. It’s Jace’s voice. He relaxes for a moment.

“Camille has her moments,” he replies airily, his eyes scan the empty room before they rest on Jace, searching. “Did she harm you?”

“A few bruises here and there, but mostly my pride,” came the quick retort. He rolls his eyes. “Do you know why she kidnapped both of us? I mean, I understand why with you but me?”

He narrows his eyes, pausing. “That’s a great question, blondie, thank you for stating the obvious.” He snaps his fingers, his magic frizzles before disappearing. “Of course, she’s always prepared. She has something up her sleeves, and knowing her, she’s been planning this for quite some time.”

“Do you think she’s still mad at you for turning her over to the Clave?” 

He sighs, leaning against the wall behind him. “Perhaps. She can hold a grudge like no other.”

Jace smiles ruefully, his eyes full of mirth. “Where do you find these people?”

The corners of his lips lift upwards ever so evidently, but his eyes remain downcast. “An easier description for you blondie is, we were just two lost souls that found each other.” 

Jace hesitated before he says, “did she - you really loved her.”

It wasn’t a question. 

He takes a deep breath. “Yes, it was hard not to. I think she loved me too. We saw something in each other that brought us together. But over time I realized, she had this dark void in her heart that nothing could ever truly repair it.”

“That’s a depressing, and tragic love story, man.” Jace stands up, circles his shoulders and moves his head from side to side. He walks toward the door before stopping in his tracks, resting a quick, reassuring hand against Magnus’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, she made a big mistake letting you go. I mean, I can kind of see what Alec and the others see in you, if I squint a little.”

Magnus huffs out a chuckle before shrugging his shoulder and playfully shooing him away. Jace skitters in front of the locked door before lifting his leg, giving a hard kick against it. The door rattles, dust floats but the door remains closed. He did it again before noise was heard on the other side. 

A key rattles, footfalls echo and the door creaks open. There’s a moment when the bright light blinds them both, their eyes closing halfway, protecting them from the harsh onslaught. There’s a discordant laugh followed by a snap of fingers.

Once their eyes adjust, they focus on Camille standing before them. Her eyes wide, filled with corruption.

“It’s show time boys.”

 

-

 

“I’m sorry, my sweet, dear boy,” his mother whispered, her voice hoarsed, her eyes vacant. 

Her hand moved away from him, inches from touching his skin. He had forgotten how her touch had felt like. He wishes he could also forget the emptiness he had filled his mother with, but he cannot. He remembers the smell of her sweet, floral scent, her brown, soft hair, her smooth skin - even as her eyes were void of any meaning. He remembered her lying on the grass, her head bent at an odd angle, her curls cascading around her shoulders. Blood soaked her white, silk dress. 

Her eyes found his and as they remained focused on him, he tells her a story because she loved stories, but not a fairytale because fairytales always left her with a taste like broken green glass and crushed pearls and bitter diamond dust. He focused on the story and his small hand grasping her long, delicate one and not at the blood staining the grass, his tears staining his small cheeks or the keris clutched tightly in her fingers. 

When her hand started to loosen, and her eyes became hollow, he begged her not to leave him. She shushed him softly, somehow still gentle after everything, and told him to continue his story. And so he does, but this time, it’s another story. A story of what should have been.

He gives her, her happiness. 

He focused on her hand because he cannot bare to see, but his eyes betrayed him and he gazed toward her face. 

She breathes in and out.

In and out.

And then she doesn’t. 

 

—

 

 

He barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit. 

He felt cold, icy and chilly even as the sun filtered through the window and turned his hair a brilliant, black hue. He’s shaking, he realized distantly. He felt weak and shaky, on his knees as his stomach abruptly contracted only to release just as violently, clutching the sides of the toilet as he vomited violently, bile and saliva slicking the membrane of his throat.

He hadn’t eaten today, he realized.

The tiles of the floor are hard on his knees as he leaned back somewhat, face glistening with sweat and bleached of any healthy color. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, and in turn wiping that over the tissue kept to the side of the toilet. He lurched forward, stomach contracting sharply and he choked on - _blood and water and anguish_ \- watery bile, coughing and spluttering, throat wrenching as tears stung his eyes and stained his cheeks in shame. 

He gasped for breath, shame and anger and pain filling him, leaning his head against his forearm as he heaved desperately for air, airway thick and cold and a sob contracts his throat, even as his stomach expels itself violently and disgustingly, spitting into the toilet as he attempted to regain control. 

Mind blank and panic setting into his skin, he was frantic, desperate as he clawed mindlessly at the thick and constricting collar of his top, the bejeweled pins falling to the floor and clattering away as he ripped the buttons from the torso, scattering them every which way. Struggling with his arms, he threw the tunic far away, turning his head from the scarlet pool of - _her blood, her tears, her wide and frozen eyes, oh how he’s failed her, he’s failed, he’s failed_ - 

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe and he lurched for the toilet again, blood slicking his forearms and burying itself under his nails as he smeared it across porcelain smoothness, stomach contracting and releasing violently as he choked on his own self-loathing and disgust and his own sobs, almost unable to support himself as he wept, stomach aching and back creaking as he tried to regain control, kneeling there in only his black trousers and boots as sweat slicked his skin.

He blindly reached for the clear potion glass filled with a red, purple tint liquid he had hidden next to the toilet. A creation he slowly and deliberately fabricated for this very moment. He flipped the top open, the noise filling and echoing against the silent walls. 

He couldn't  _breathe_ - 

A small hand, cold between his sharp shoulder blades, surprised him.

He closed his eyes, he choked on his vomit, stomach contracting again, spitting it into the toilet as he clutched ever tighter on the thin glass, knees aching and brushing with the hardness as a hand smoothed his hair back even as the other slowly strokes it’s thumb up and down in an affectionate gesture against his back. Breathless and gasping for air, face white apart from the flush high on his hollowed cheekbones, he lurched away from the toilet, leaving blood smears on the white architecture.

He huddled back against her knees, trying to make himself as small as possible. She kneeled down in front of him, face tight and concern and worry, with a wet towel in her hand. She cupped his face in one hand, tilting his chin up and gently wiped at the tear stains and saliva and bile slicking his lips and chin. He stared up at her, blind and hazy as she stared silently back at him. He raised a single, shaking hand and pressed it slowly against her cheek as if to make sure she’s real.

Her cheek is cold beneath his trembling fingers, and he made a sound in the back of his throat, hoarsed and desperate and hurting. She stayed silent as she tilted her head to the side, her hands reaching slowly for the poison still tightly held in his grasp. Her thumb smoothed over his skin, her fingers wrapping over his. 

She took the bottle away from him, detangling his fingers from it before emptying the contents in the toilet. The liquid splashing, bubbling and the flushing are the only noise surrounding them. He stared at her, his form trembling before all pride leaves him as he flinged himself at her. He buried his head into the thin shoulder, curling around the woman and trying to curb his shivering and trembling. 

Her arms slowly come up around him, and he made a desperate sound in the back of his throat, hoarsed and hurting and desperate in all turns as he clinged fiercely to her. Her hand smoothed his hair back once again, repeatedly while the other softly stroked his back. 

He felt cold lips press softly to his temple. 

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Camille whispered.

He felt warm.

 

—

 

 _You really loved her_.

 _It was hard not to_.

For all her misgivings, her wickedness, the darkness surrounding her, she saved him. She had been there when he needed someone the most. For all her faults, something small and good formed within her and he grasped with all his might for that light. But it flickered, withered and died. 

And so had his love. 

 

—

 

The chains cast with magic, held both of them down, standing side by side. 

Jace stood to the right and he to the left.

Camille was facing them, her back to Alexander. His stance was tense, his hand grasping his quiver and arrow, his fingers turning a startling pale white and red. His eyes flicker between them before they rest on her. She twirls around, her hand loosely clutching the keris, the silver catching the light. He recognizes the dagger and so does Alec, for his eyes narrow and his lips harden.

“Well, well little Shadowhunter, thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I know you’re a busy man so I’ll try to make this quick for you,” she says, her voice deceptively sweet. 

“What’s stopping me from putting this arrow through your heart?” Alec asks, steadying his quiver and readying his arrow in place. It looks as if something has burrowed beneath his skin, twisted by Camille’s words, carving out a cavern of hatred and loathing. 

She shrugs, in a bored and collected manner. “If you do, they both die when that arrow pierces my heart. You can go ahead and gamble with their lives to see if I’m telling the truth.” She smiles, her tongue curving over her top teeth, her fangs appearing. 

Alec clutches his quiver, he shifts, his muscles tense and ready to spring, but otherwise makes no move to use it. 

“Good boy,” she says after a moment, flipping her hair to the side before walking toward the two chained man. “So, you see I got in quite a mess with a Demon and not to bore you too much with the details, I need a quick and fast sacrifice and either one will do. And of course, you’ll ask why them and not someone else, well I wanted to have a little fun along the way. And Magnus did turn me into the Clave, so there is that.”

“Bitterness suits you so well, my dear. I have forgotten how dramatic your schemes can be,” Magnus says, with haughty disdain. 

“It’s all for you, my love,” she says, her fingers skimming over the collar of her necklace before a ripple of laughter spills from her lips. She turns toward Alec. “So, on one side is your lover and on the other your brother. Which one do you choose?”

“Please. Don’t do this, Camille,” Alec bites out, his voice firm but an undeniable tremble beneath it. “I can’t.”

She sighs. “Look, you have the option to save one of them, or both of them are gone. So might as well save one of them.” She stands between them, facing Alec. The dagger is held tightly on her right hand as the sharp tip punctures her finger, blood trickles and coats the silver. “Jace or Magnus? I don’t have all day, little Shadowhunter, so make it quick. When the clock strikes midnight, times over.”

There was ten seconds left. He turns to her. “Camille, stop this now!” She turns to him, her smile is rueful and her eyes vicious, but he sees something pass fleetingly before its gone. 

Guilt.

He’s confuse. His frown deepens and he tries to voice his thoughts but the clock strikes in warning. 

 _Five_.

Commotion fills the room. 

 _Four_.

Jace yells something. Alec steps forward, tears stain his cheeks. 

 _Three_.

Camille laughs.

 _Two_.

Their cuffs glow an eerily red.

 _One_.

“Jace! I choose Jace.”

The clock chimes, the bell’s sound echoes in the otherwise silent, frozen scene before him. He feels his heart stop, his ears roar, his breathing becomes shallow. Alexander is staring at him - his eyes are streaked with tears, his mouth slightly open, breathing hard. His form jolts forward, as if he can no longer hold himself upwards. 

He smiles softly at Alec, trying to reassure him that he understands, even as his heart begins to ache and the familiar grief courses through his veins. His vision of Alec is obscured as Camille stands before him. She smiles, almost - he believes - sadly. 

She leans forward, her lips resting against his ear. Her breath tickles his skin, her perfume filling his airway. “It’s okay.”

A strong gust of wind surrounds the pair. She pulls back, her hand rests at the back of his head, smoothing down to his neck, almost tenderly. 

“I'm here.”

She pulls the dagger back and thrusts it forward.

 

 

_We were just two lost souls that found each other._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magnus mentions how Camille was there to stop him from his suicide attempt. Though he describes it differently, I went ahead and did my own take on it. Here's what was created. Sorry for the heavy angst here, but it had to be done. Thoughts are very much welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And yet, as others left - she always remained.

 

 "Oh, I will be cruel to you, Marya Morevna.  
It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be.  
But you understand, don’t you?"

\- Deathless, Catherynne M. Valente

 

He thought he wanted to know the story that her eyes hid so well.

Her body was one thing, to know what was beneath that beautiful, satin red dress she always seemed to prefer. To know what’s behind her eyes is another.

She hid everything so well. Shielded her thoughts with frigid restrain. Her eyes would adjust to this frozen feeling with brittle regard. Her features pronounced into a nonchalant, passive expression. But there were moments when she rested her forehead against his, her breath cold against his skin. 

He felt something, and he knew she did too, but it remained unnamed. Instead, he would ask her if she was okay because even though it was impossible to comprehend, he knew the life she had, unknowingly and cruelly twisted her. The world had surrounded her with darkness, and so darkness she had become.

Camille blinked once, twice. Her familiar, baleful smile framed her lips. “Of course, my love. I’m fine.”

But he doesn’t think even all the world’s oceans could fill her empty heart.

 

 

-

 

 

He was awoken by music.

He laid on his stomach, listening for several long minutes. It was obviously a stringed instrument of some sort – one he could not immediately identify. There was a hint of the mournful tone of a violin, but something much lighter as well – like a harp or a hammered dulcimer. The notes fluttered as if plucked with a finger rather than drawn out with a bow. He didn’t recognize the composition either.

He rolled over the bed and looked around. It was early evening; the sky not quite fully darken yet outside the window. He lazily climbed off the bed, tugging lightly on his shirt he wore, feeling a cool breeze on his naked feet. He padded barefoot out of the room and along the short hallway that led to the living area. He paused in the doorway. 

He stood motionless, enraptured. Camille was sitting on the couch with her back to him, her head bent over some sort of instrument balanced on her knee. At length, the composition ended and she fell silent. He blinked. She was making some adjustment to the instrument she held. As he stepped forward into the room, a lilting melody entirely contrasting the previous haunting piece she’d been playing sprang from the strings, filling the air around them.

She glanced over her shoulder at him as he approached.

Abruptly, the music stopped.

“Don’t stop, darling,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Her head tilted to one side and blinked once before her fingers began to move again. He came to stand before her. She met his gaze, her hands moving over the strings of what he now recognized as a lyre. He sunk to his knees on the carpet beside her and watched.

She played the song to its evident conclusion.

“I haven’t played it in a long time,” she remarked after the last chord had faded into silence.

He shifted closer and wrapped a hand around her knee and rested his chin upon it. The material of her robe was cool and soft against his skin. He smiled at her while her eyes studied him. “You play so beautifully. If I had known about your musical skills, my dear, I would have fallen for your charms far quicker.” 

That had brought a smile to her lips. “Ralf gave it to me as a present and taught me how to play.”

She is gazing at him. Her eyes, there was a palpable desperation in them, an unnatural contrast to her usually mischievous demeanor. Ralf had been the one that got away, and he knew for he had let her go so she could be happy with him. But life, for an immortal, never seemed to find tranquility.

“Will you play? For me?” He asked, closing his eyes – unable to meet her distant eyes, bitterness and sorrow filling his being. Though he understood her heartache, he had foolishly hoped that he could be enough for her.

She shifted and for a moment, he was afraid that she would walk away. But then he heard a tune as it echoed in the quiet space between them. Yet, the music was not the same. It remained perfectly precise, controlled. But the music lacked what it needed to _be_ music.

Emotions.

He slowly opened his eyes as he gazed toward her. Her head is tilted upward in strict contemplation, adjusting herself to the repetitive, musical routine.

And he knew that he’d lost her.

 

-

 

Meeting Camille for the first time was like taking a deep breath after spending years underwater, for reasons that he still doesn't completely understand. There's a minute of frozen air, something electric humming just under his skin - 

\- then, she begins to show her true form, and he was suddenly and fully back to drowning again. 

 

 

-

 

 

The late night did little to cool him as he walked from the Royal Albert Hall toward the Kensington Gardens. Walking through the park, he saw a handful of young people still out – alone and in pairs. Their distant laughter and chatter outweighed and drifted around the cool breeze that swirled around him.

His eyes instantly searched for her. He was slightly overwhelmed with nerves, not entirely certain if she would accept his companionship. He had not felt this way in quite a while. The first time he saw a glimpsed of her, he had made a pass, his charisma easily flowing between them. But as the night wore off, and dawn’s rays peeked through the horizon, her departure had left a yearning for her company again.

His eyes finally found her. She sat on a curved wooden bench, her back to him. She sat elegantly, her back straight. She had donned a heavy, silk cobalt colored wrap, matching her heavy skirts. Her bonnet covered her eyes as they swept over people walking passed her, casually dismissing them, until her eyes found his.

Where she sat was deserted. He made his way toward her, his eyes swiftly drifted around their surroundings before resting on her again. He sat next to her, staring straight ahead. He took a deep breath and waited for her to make the decision for them. When he saw her from the corner of his eye, her head tilting toward him, he smiled. She was not going to ignore him. “I often come here. I find the gardens pleasing.”

“I know, I’ve seen you,” he commented, turning toward her.

“You have? Why did you not approach me?” There’s something in her voice he’s not certain he can identify. But her eyes are narrowed playful, and her lips are curved in a devilish smile.

“I didn’t want to intrude on your privacy.” 

“I assure you, my dear Magnus, I would not consider it an intrusion.” There’s almost a warmth behind her voice, a slight edge to it. “It’s actually a great time to discuss and plan extravagant parties.” 

“Good to hear,” he responded breathlessly. He restrained himself in reaching for her, instead, he curled his fingers against his thigh. “I am quite excellent at throwing parties. Have I ever told you about that one time I found Michelangelo asleep in my bathtub after quite a festive?”

And that’s when it all started.

The corner of her lips tugged upward ever so slightly. An abstruse movement that no one else could have understood. It was a stark contrast to her previous smiles he had witnessed. She gave him something, something that he knew was his downfall.

She truly smiled.

 

 

-

 

When all was said and done, he ended up walking away. He had seen her with another, how her sweet, gentle, twisted words lured the other toward her as she had done with him. He had given her everything - and he would have given her the world. 

But she had wanted so much more.

So, he had to walk away.

 

 

-

 

And yet, as others left and abandoned him - she always remained. 

 

-

 

 

“Lights.”

The lashes covering his eyes flicker against the harsh fluorescence now flooding the room. His back, conform to the embrace of the chair, stood upright – rigid. His fingers tighten at the edge, his knuckles turning white as the enchanted rope compress its hold around his wrist.

Camille stands before him, her fingers grazing his cheek. A habit, he realizes, she has acquired. He does not know what to make of this newfound revelation.

Air filled his nostrils, air that is stale with the taint of faint humidity and hints of her scent. The sound of his own breath reaches his ears, a short, sigh, follow by the scraping of fingers against the wooden arm chairs. He blinks, his finger taps lightly on the arm, once and stops.

“So, what’s next? I for one, am not looking forward to being a sacrifice, but I cannot seem to feel my bottom anymore and I am in dire need of a mirror. Having old, streaked eyeliner is never a good look on anyone.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, chin elevating along with his pronounced brow into – what he hopes was a nonchalant expression.

“Oh, I was never going to sacrifice you, or anyone really,” she replies, draping herself in the chair next to his. The door is left open, he can clearly see a storm forming outside. The pitter-pat rain is quickly replaced with deluge, harsh droplets. “I might have told a little lie. I was never in a mess with a Demon – yet. But a particular Demon owed me a huge favor from a while back and I decided to use it.” 

His eyes narrow. “And where do I fit in all of this?”

“You, my dear Magnus, are the favor,” she says, as she begins to untie him. Once freed, he snaps his fingers, a portal appearing before he makes a leap for it. The familiarity of his magic coursing through him, and the portal’s hazy feel gives him ease. But it’s short lived when he steps out of the portal and stands in front of Camille, in the same room. He stares down at his hands.

“What did you do?”

“Before you so rudely interrupted in trying to escape, I was trying to tell you that you’re bound to me now, Magnus,” she says, crossing her legs. “When I stabbed you with the dagger – which by the way I apologize for that, but I had to make sure that little Shadowhunter saw. I wanted to erase any doubt of you still being alive.” Her hands smooth the arms of the chair, before sweeping back, anchoring her as she fluidly stands up. “My blood that I stained the dagger with was mixed with yours – and that my love, bounds you to me. You are unable to leave my liar, or me.”

His eyes are wide, disbelieving. “I’m your prisoner.”

“Prisoner, partner, long, lost love – whatever you choose to describe it.”

“I don’t understand. What do you want from me?” His usual tone, wrought with confidence and allure, is soft and lost.

“In part, it’s your magic. There’s so much I can use that to my benefit,” she says, her palms join, her fingers moving forward before separating. “But, also, I miss you Magnus. I have been feeling so alone, and you’re the only one that understands me.”

“I might understand you, Camille, but that doesn’t mean I accept your actions against others.” He began to pace, his fingers tapping his chin, thinking. 

“Yes, I suppose. But I knew from the beginning what was going to be his choice. I might have started the mess, but I didn’t create its inevitable conclusion.”

He pauses, ever to deliberately, before he continues. It was wishful thinking to believe she did not notice his small hesitation. “I knew he was going to break your heart. It was just a matter of time.” Now, he understands why her eyes had looked at him the way they did when Alec uttered his choice. “I told you, Magnus. I’m the only one you can count on to be here for you forever.”

She takes a step towards him and he stops mid-stride from his pacing. She lightly traces her fingertips up across his arm. When she reaches his shoulder, she nudges the collar of his shirt out of the way so her fingers could dip into the hollow above his collarbone, before dipping lower, over his heart.

“It’s you and me. It will always be you and me.”

Thunder sounds, the wind roars, lightning flashes, and he does not argue.

 

 

 

 

[Here's](https://youtu.be/zX9kPR29Riw) a video of the song she was playing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore a little between Magnus and Camille. Their story - though is not portrayed heavily in the show, is so very interesting, full of heartache and complexity. Hope you enjoyed - next chapter will be focused on Alec.
> 
> And as for the music and instrument Camille was playing - the link is above!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was never supposed to outlive Magnus.

 

"And in the morning,  
when I wake and reach for the empty space across the sheets,  
I begin to lose you all over again."

\- Lang Leav

 

Magnus had become everything to him.

Alec had never realized just how empty and dull his life was until he found him. The yawning, hungry void in his heart, the one that he had been nursing since the day he knew he could never be enough for his parents, enough as a Shadowhunter, enough for Jace, was instantly filled by him.

 _Him_.

He had seen all that was wonderful about Magnus, and he was everything to him. Absolutely everything.

But he made Magnus feel as though he was nothing to him. He had never been good with words, or emotions. He never understood how someone could love another so much without wanting anything in return – until Magnus came along and changed _everything_.

He was the dust of the earth and Magnus was the sky. He was nothing and Magnus was something, _something_.

And yet, Magnus is gone - deprived him of the life he could have had with him. A life he had selfishly taken for granted. He was never supposed to outlive Magnus.

He’s gazing outward at the city, leaning against the railing. His keen eyes searching, his stance ready for _her_. He feels the chill of the night, and the ever-prominent emptiness at his side. There’s a chirp before the harsh ringing fills the silence surrounding him. Jace’s name flickers on his screen.

He pauses, gazing at the name, before he curls his fingers, feeling cold against his skin.

 

 

-

 

 

He stands on the grass and stares at the empty, hopeless space before him. The grey stone, polished and smooth, with a name engraved on it, stood before him. The unforgiving structure looms over the many roses scattered over it. And Alec stares at the space, stares at the name – _Magnus Bane_ and clenches his fist.

He starts to cry.

His tears were cold on his cheeks, slithering down to the base of his throat in tiny, trailing droplets. He cries and lets his sobs rise. There’s an ache in his heart that makes it difficult to breathe.

“Alec, I was told you needed to speak to me.” The voice is low and fray, but it reaches around the confines of the courtyard, dominating the small space with a profound echo.

He recognizes the tone. He shudders, his tears turning hot on his cheeks even as he struggles to wipe them away. The mark of his grief is evident, a brand on his soul that is reflected in his bleary eyes and clenched fists and the way his breathing hitches when he tries to speak.

“Yes – yes, uh sorry …” he takes another breath when he sees the edge of her shadow on the ground near his feet. She was standing close by. “I’m sorry.”

He scrubs his face viciously on the rough sleeve of his jacket, wishing, for all the world, that she could be someone else. Someone, someone, _him_.

But she’s not.

“Don’t apologize,” Catarina says.

His back is still to her, unable to move his eyes away from the tomb. “Have you found anything?”

He can hear her hesitation. “Alec, I can’t locate him.” She pauses. “Maybe it’s time to let him g – “

“Don’t.” He finally turns. He catches a glimpse of her broken demeanor, her eyes sorrowful, her white hair pulled back. He drops his eyes, stares at the toes of his boots that were smudge with scuffs and stains with the sands of the training grounds. “There …there was no body, which – which means he’s still out there. If you just tried harder. What if you use other items that were more important to him?”

“Alec.”

“There has to be a spell you haven’t tried." 

“Alec.”

“If you can take a look at his spell book, there has to be – “

“Alec!” He stops, his eyes find hers. She takes a deep breath, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Her eyes are downcast. “I can’t feel his magic.”

The air seems to have been suddenly let out of him, leaving only agony and terror and _pain_. Sobs rake his body, as her words trail through his head, and the meaning behind them.

 _He’s gone_.

She holds him, her soft embrace should feel comforting but he feels cold.

 

 

-

 

 

Because he loves him, he always had.

And he always will.

 

 

-

 

  

 

Clary maneuvered her small form forward, bringing her quarterstaff close to Jace’s knees. With one swift blow, he overbalanced and crashed to the floor.

“That,” Magnus began, leaning back in his chair, “was amazing.” A martini glass was held elegantly in his hand.

Alec glanced toward him, smiling. “You want to get out of here?”

“Yes, darling. I was starting to worry I wasn’t being obvious I didn’t want to be here,” Magnus answered, standing up. He watched as Magnus animatedly talked about what they should do. It was mesmerizing the way he talked. Everything from the fluid gestures he made to the small shimmy of his shoulders to the rich, satisfied tone of his voice made Alec want to listen to him forever. 

His eyes had been so intently focused on Magnus as he spoke that he had not realized Jace and Clary had joined them.

“What are you planning on doing?” Jace asked, his question directed at Alec.

“Me, tonight, if I’m lucky,” Magnus answered, winking at Alec. He swirled his drink before taking a sip. Alec felt the familiar thrum of his heart and the heat coursing through his chest, up to his cheeks.

Jace’s face twisted, as if pained. “I walked right into that, didn’t I?” Clary laughed, resting a hand on his shoulder, pushing him lightly.

“We’re planning on getting drinks. You’re more than welcome to join us, Biscuit,” Magnus said, gaze steady on Clary before his eyes wondered slowly toward Jace, in playful haughtiness. “And I suppose Goldilocks is invited as well.” Jace rolled his eyes.

He watched their easy chatter, their bickering, and he felt at ease. He caught Magnus’s eye for a moment, when Jace made a particularly witty retort, and saw a smile bloom over his lover’s lips. He fell silent, and they stared for another moment, as though they’re not surrounded by Jace and Clary.

He leaned to the side, catching Magnus’s hand in his, and lacing their fingers together. Magnus tilted his head, lips turning up, white teeth flashing, brown eyes brilliant and lively all at once.

“Bleh, Alec, why are you staring at him?” Jace exclaimed, ignoring Clary’s little bump against his shoulder.

 _Because_ , he thought, _he is the most beautiful thing in the world_.

 

 

 

-

 

 

Before he exited Magnus’s home, following Izzy back to the Institute, his gaze wondered and he saw Magnus smiling, illuminated by sunlight.

And he was at peace.

 

 

 

-

 

 

There was something infinitely humbling about the boom of thunder. Different from the roar of an engine or the steady noise of a city, it was one of nature’s most imposing sounds. He feels it resonate above him, casting out across the inky grey clouds. He keeps his eyes close, arms clenched as raindrops tug and press against his clothes and skin. His lids slowly lift. The green of the yard is vibrant under the torrential downpour, the thunder having cracked open the sky. The rain was cold - but it hammers against the skin, thick drops which cause a mist upon collision.

“Alec. I’m sorry.” 

He inclines his head slightly to the side, his lips parting slightly in contemplation. His attention turns to Jace who was standing next to him. There was something vulnerable in Jace’s eyes as he gazes at him, awaiting his response. He feels the fleeting despair through their bond before it’s gone.

He wants to tell him that it’s okay. But he can’t.

He just _can’t_.

And Jace knows because he walks away.

 

 

-

 

 

“We can’t locate her.”

“Then keep looking. I’ll take the next patrol.”

“Alec, she’s dangerous. We shouldn’t – “

“I’m not stopping until I find her.”

“Revenge won’t bring him back.”

He pauses at the entrance, his back to Izzy. He takes a moment to look over his shoulder. “I know,” he says, his voice just above a whisper. “Believe me, I know.”

 

 

-

 

 

 

It started raining while they slept; cool, misty air crept in through open windows and curled around them invitingly. They were both awake but they didn’t move, comfortable in their entwined limbs and combined warmth. The carpet just under the open windows was getting wet, but they didn’t rise to close them.

He knew that mornings like this remind Magnus of London, of a place he had been able to call his home – of the storms that hardly last for a long period of time but still reminded him of the gloominess it was known for. He thinks one day he would like to take Magnus back, just to see the look on his face. 

 

 

_He never got the chance._

 

_-_

 

 

He awakens. He feels disoriented as he reaches for his phone. He forgot to tell Magnus he won’t make it back to his place tonight, he has a meeting early the next day.

He calls him. 

He rubs his eyes.

 _Ring_. 

He freezes.

 _Ring_.

He remembers.

 _Ring_.

Magnus is gone.

He hangs up the phone.

_-_

 

 

Dawn’s first rays pierce through the shadows and found him sitting at one of the back tables in the apartment. He sees her long before she enters, the rattle of the door, wood floor creaking faintly beneath her feet.

His impassive eyes slowly follow her as she walks into a patch of sunlight coming through the window and stood still for a moment, Catarina’s startle eyes resting on him. His thumb stops smoothing over the cool surface of the ring resting inside of his palm.

When she walks towards him, his eyes flicker down to the ring. He stiffens, his other hand grasping the corner of the table painfully. She sits quietly in front of him, her white hair was pulled back, interwoven with an intricate braid.

“I didn’t – “ He pauses, swallowing before starting again. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“I needed to tidy the place up and make sure his cats don’t starve. He would have never forgiven me if I neglected them,” she says, her small quip falling short between them.

“He will never forgive you if you neglect them,” he automatically corrects, his eyes downcast. She does not reply for a moment. Instead, her eyes focus on the ring held tightly in his hand.

“Is that …” she trails off, unsure of how to proceed.

“A ring. Yeah.” He  sets it down on the table between them. “He – I’m not good at –“ He clears his throat and she remains silent, patient as he tries to find his words, his bearings. His eyes take a moment to clear. “He thought I was becoming distant but I was trying to find the courage to ask him to marry me.”

Silence.

Except for the sporadic beat of his heart, their slow intake of breaths, the small raspy sound of her body shifting against the chair. Her eyes meet his – looking almost compose. But something in his face crumbles a fraction, and his eyes shift, catching the light.

“He would have said yes.” Her voice is soft, low. She leans forward, placing a hand on his clenched fist resting against the table, her fingers brushing his with such delicacy.

He closes his eyes and does not correct her usage of past tense.

They stay silent.

 

 

-

 

 

It is late afternoon before he is granted reprieve. The day passes at a steady pace, though quiet – quieter than it has ever been. His ears, attune as they are to even the most delicate sounds of his surroundings, find nothing but noise in conversations and notes the severe lacking of spears clashing.

He walks, his hand clasp firmly behind his back. Doors swish open automatically as he strides purposefully into the hall, where other fellow Shadowhunters’s laughter and the shuffling of their standards issue boots create rhythm. Another swish of the doors and the beam of light assaults his eyes. The sounds from the Institute are replaced by the hum of nature – a light rustling of twigs and branches of bare trees in the distance muffled by the wind whipping against the side of his head, the tips of his ears.

And then he sees Izzy, just barely through the touch of sun, the rays on his cheeks. He goes to her. “Hey big bro, what are you doing out here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

She shrugs, her curls trailing down over her shoulder. “Mother. You know, the usual.” She plucks a few leaves from the nearby tree. “I was getting tired of hearing her say she was just following orders.”

“She keeps saying that. After a while, it loses its meaning.” He stares at the leaves, sees them as they fall downward ever so slowly. “It has lost its meaning a long time ago.”

“Alec.” She pauses, her eyes softening, her fingers smoothing over a leaf held loosely in her hand. “I heard you’re giving up your position as Head of the Institute. I don’t understand.”

“I should have given it up a long time ago but I needed the influence it had to find …” He trails off, his eyes narrow. “It stopped meaning something to me and I just can’t. I can’t look at the others the same, at the Institute, at the Clave, at Ja – “ He clenches his jaw, looking away.

“It’s okay, Alec.” Her voice is soothing, almost as if treading carefully. “It’s okay to have regrets.”

“What kind of person does that make me?” His voice is hoarse, but cracked and so achingly lost. “When she asked me to choose, I opened my mouth to choose _him_. I – I almost did. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn’t.”

Izzy looks at him, but doesn’t say anything, and it’s a marker of their new realm. She had never been able to hold her tongue; when he was lecturing her on her recklessness on away missions, when he was bickering with her like there was no tomorrow. Now, she’s silent. And sometimes, he wishes she would bring some of that familiarity back into his life. He always wishes for what he can’t have.

“I chose Jace. I chose duty over _him_. Not a day goes by that I don’t – “ He inhales, his eyes watering and he blinks, trying to regain some control. “I don’t hate Jace. He’s my brother, but I hate what he represented at the time.”

_He hates – he hates himself, more than anything._

“If Jace – “ she looks away, her teeth grazing her lips. “If Jace wasn’t your Parabatai, would you still have chosen him?”

In his hesitation, she finds her answer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parabatai is described as a bond so strong that if one of them is gone, they lose themselves. It’s a sense of duty, more than anything. A bond between two people fighting together. That’s why romance is prohibited between a pair that is parabatai because the bond is not romantic in nature & can unleash some type of bad magic or so - but I haven't read the recent books by Cassandra Clare so I don't know how that works out with a romantic pair but anyways, getting off topic. Just wanted to give a little insight between parabatai bonds. Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and getting an insight on Alec's thoughts and struggles. Comments are very much welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple, lonely death and a sad reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, so sorry for the long delay! Work and schoolwork really did a hassle on me and didn't give me time to work on this story. Hopefully, I can take time off every so often to write - but I can't promise a speedy update. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Feedback is much appreciated!

“Death, lonely death, beneath the withered leaves.”  
\- F.G.L

**Alec**

It was Izzy who had tracked her location down. He should have known it was a mistake not bringing back up. A mistake he was paying now as Camille held Izzy in front of her as a shield. Her nails seeming to caress his sister’s neck, as her fangs hovered over the delicate skin. 

His bow was lost in battle by the entrance, and his blade is his only remaining weapon. He holds onto it tightly, his nails digging into his skin as he feels a trickle of blood flowing down his fingers.

Camille’s grip tightens and her blunt nails sink into Izzy’s neck. A wave of rage ricochets through him. “If you hurt her, I will kill you,” he vows through gritted teeth.

Camille merely smiles. “You think that’s a threat? You haven’t been able to track me until now, and then you made the naïve mistake of coming alone.” Cocking her head, she arched one eyebrow. She glances at Izzy, her eyes trailing slowly from her face before resting on Alec. “This feels a little like déjà vu, doesn’t it little Shadowhunter? I’m a little disappointed you haven’t avenged his death.”

Alec’s heart thumps painfully hard against his chest, his eyes sting and his hand trembles. He hears Izzy’s breath catch, echoes in the otherwise silent space. She narrows her eyes, her lip curls in a snarl but remains silent. Her eyes search his but he looks away. Swallowing thickly, he tries to remain compose. “Please, let her go.”

“Give me a few seconds of a start before you come after me and we have a deal.”

He looks at her long and hard, and then slowly nods. He doesn’t trust his voice not to waver.

Camille seems to move to the side, readying herself for her escape, but pauses for a moment and Alec narrows his eyes. She strokes her thumb down the column of Izzy’s neck, mouth curling up at the corners, amused. She moves forward, her hand grips tightly around Izzy’s throat, her lips brushing her cheek before her eyes glint toward Alec.

“Do you think he knew? Do you wonder if he noticed your hesitation when you were trying to choose between Jace and him? Did he have any idea of the depth of your love for him?” 

Alec glares at her, his lips trembling with his anger. Never has he hated a person so much in his life, and the desire to tear her apart _burns_ inside of him.

And she knows, because she smiles.

With a twist of her hand, Izzy tumbles to the floor, skidding a few feet away before she’s gone.

 

 

-

 

 

**Magnus**

He’s going mad.

No, that wouldn’t be entirely accurate. He has been going mad, slowly, for a long, long time. Now he knows he has reached his outmost.

He stands stark still just inside her bedroom door. Empty, as per usual during this time. But the fluorescent light does not sting his dark eyes, and his brow does not furrow to shield him from the momentary flicker. The heel of his boots thud softly across the floor, his hand sweeps upward, his bracelets clanking together.

His eyes linger on her vanity table before his fingers sweep across her hair brush, his fingers delicately plucking a single, dark strand of hair. Tucking the strand inside his coat pocket, he makes his way back to the door. He hears the creaking of floorboards as Camille herself nears the door, feeling her approach. The knob rattles and she appears.

“Hello my love,” she fiddles with the door knob, her eyes scrutinizing her room before they rest on him. “Planning something? I know I said you’re free to explore the house, but I thought it would be obvious that my room was off limits – for the time being of course.” She smirked, winking at her last comment.

He kept his gaze even, and was grateful the thunderous pounding in his chest was relatively silent. “Do not flatter yourself. I was merely so bored that I started to refill the pitchers for the flowers you have littered around this dreadful place. I must say, I admire your will to try and keep these beautiful flowers alive. It seems they start to wilt when you pass by them.”

She scoffs, her elbow resting against her hand. Her fingers carelessly playing with a strand of her hair as she studies him while he grabs the flowers. She moves aside to allow him to exit her room then closes the door behind them.

“You are one to speak, Magnus. If I remember correctly, you killed the Azaleas when I gifted them to you long ago.”

It was Magnus’s turn to scoff. He faces her, his free hand stretched toward her, his finger poised in a straight line, pointing. “You set me up for disaster. That plant was such a diva.” His eyes widen as he mimics a high, pitched voice. “Watering should be at a certain time, it shouldn’t receive too much sunlight or too little and it shouldn’t be in a temperature above 65 degrees.” 

Laughter fills the air between them. She moves forward and plucks a loose leaf that landed on his forearm. She stands there for a moment, her fingers lingering close to the fabric of his coat. Their eyes meet and their smiles vanish.

He tenses, and pulls away. The familiarity and easy companionship between them has flourished over time – it was bound to happen. He has been by her side for almost a year now. She had meant something to him and it was a matter of time before she meant something to him, again. Maybe not the same as before, but there was still the ever-prominent notion of their amity between them.

He had thought, long ago, that she was good for him for a while – distracted his thoughts, set his mind at ease with her fierce personality and all kinds of frivolities. He thought she understood the pain he felt in his heart, pulled him away from the edge in more ways than one. They crashed events, partied until the sun rose overhead; she made him feel good, made him feel important and wanted when the world meant to prove him otherwise. He loved her _so much_ , gifted her with lavish jewelry, but it was never enough.

Her decadence appeared over time, for he was just an entertainment, something that required little effort on her side. Ruthlessly cold at the core, she toyed with his emotions, selfishly manipulated him into giving her all she wanted, put thoughts in his head, ones he should have never believed. But there were moments when their eyes found one another across the room, and a flicker of something passed through her eyes that made him believe.

But despite it all, she never intended to be his forever. And after some time, he believed he had finally found it, his forever, but as the world likes to remind him, a happy ending for him doesn’t exist.

It was impossible to forget.

“I’m going to change the water in these,” he said in a slight daze as he scurries off to the kitchen.

He sets the vase down as he leans forward, his eyes closed, breathing slowly and deeply. His ears strain to hear every movement of Camille’s on the other side of the wall: the placing of a wine glass on the table, the low murmur of her voice as she spoke to one of her vampire minions, the noise of her heels against the hardwood floor before it was muffled by the area rug. Wits, words, they were all a lost cause. Instead of thinking, he knew he just needed to act. He needs to free himself. After all this time, his carefully crafted spell will need to flourish soon.

“Camille, be a dear and bring the other flowers from the dining table here,” Magnus calls to her as he stands in the kitchen, trying to remind himself of why he was standing there in the first place. _Flowers_. He glances down to look at them.

Hastily, he tips the vase over to get rid of the old, murky water before refilling it. When silence continues to greet him, he realizes she is no longer there. He turns off the water, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. 

But all he sees are hazel eyes and wonders if Alexander misses him.

If maybe, just maybe, he regrets his choice. And in that moment, Magnus feels like a complete and utter fool. He must understand, he would always be second choice.

He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood.

 

 

-

 

 

Magnus is desperate for Alexander to find out he’s alive. 

He’s terrified that he will find out.

 

 

-

 

 

Camille begins to look agitated. A few of her minions have been taken down by Shadowhunters. She moves to another location, and he follows. She starts to request more frequent spells, potions and summonings. He feels depleted, his magic still surrounds him, but delicately, with less energy. There is a second when he feels like he might die. But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t know how to feel about that.

 

 

-

 

 

Magnus startles back to life, eyes shot wide. Lungs squeezing painfully, he gulps air in on a chocked gasp; a gurgle of blood at his lips before it spatters his chin on a cough. Blurry eyes dart around as he gives a pain groan.

He remembers screams, Camille’s hiss as she heaves insults to one of her vampire sycophants. How she accused Camille of betraying her. He had been sitting at the table, not particularly paying much heed to their typical, heated banter. A martini glass held loosely in his hand. He had pitched his own witty remarks, but neither seem to appreciate his attempt at humor. He had not determined the depth of anger that particular vampire held against Camille. For one second, he was taking a sip of his drink, and then next, there was a burst of light before everything went dark.

He sat up abruptly, a stabbing pain echoing in every inch of him. His eyes scan the scorched living area. _Fire_. He remembers fire. And a sharp, wooden stake aimed toward Camille’s heart.

“Camille,” he chokes, giving his head a shake when his vision blurs. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he turns himself onto his knees and pushes up. Swaying, he raises his hands and presses the heels against his eyes. His knees shake, threating to give out on him, but he pushes forward, stumbling across the blackened carpet.

Taking a deep breath, he tilts his head back. “Camille?” 

It took a moment, of him waiting, and waiting, his brow furrow and dread skittering down his spine.

“Magnus.” The voice is weak, frail. It’s her voice. 

His eyes narrow as his head swings abruptly to the left, and he spots the vague outline of someone. Camille, who’s body is slumped on the ground, near the upturn dining table. He walks toward her and he hits his knees in front of her as he reaches for her shoulder. She’s gazing up at him, her hair in a disarray, her dress torn and burnt in different places. But his eyes wonder and he sees the wooden stake plunged deeply into her heart. It was the only thing keeping her alive. If pulled out, she would be gone.

He feels cold, he feels hot. His hands are shaking uncontrollably, but he stills manages to lift her up, pulling her into his arms. He’s staring down at her, her eyes half-closed, dried blood staining her cheek from a cut running the length of her scalp.

How had it come to this? How easily and fragile Camille really was, one who was strong and willing to survive at any cost was outdone by one of her mindless followers. He had always believed one day, the misdeeds she had done would have caught up to her. But not like this. With no extravagant departure, but a mere, simple, lonely death. 

Stretching his fingers over her cheek, he tucks a stray strand of her hair back, his thumb running at dried blood, trying to get it off her. Her hand slowly raises, her fingers curling around his wrist, stopping his movements.

“Well, at least I had a good run, didn’t I?”  

“Camille,” he whispers. His brow furrows as he stares at her, memorizing her face, from the arch of her eyebrows to the fan of her eyelashes to the length of her nose to the faint upturn of her lips to that stubborn chin of hers, always raised in defiance.

“Magnus, my dear Magnus,” her voice is hoarse, light, wavering as blood slowly starts to seep from her wound to his shirt. “I need you to know that I’m …I’m sorry, for everything.”

His breath hitches in his throat as he gathers her close, burying a hand in her hair, fingers shaking at the nape of her neck. “Our story will always be my favorite, but it became a mere tragedy, didn’t it my beloved.” She takes a shuddering breath, her hand resting against his cheek, cold against his warm skin. “After losing Ralf, I lost myself and you came along and tried to love me. And that’s the thing, I couldn’t be loved. But I remember our story and it ended badly – so badly,” she chuckles as she wipes the tears from his cheeks. “But we were happy.” 

She smiles at him, and it was sad. Magnus doesn't remember ever seeing her sad, not in the real sense. “Can you do me one last favor, for old time’s sake.” He silently nods. “Can you tell me you have never loved anyone the way you loved me.”

Her hair hung limply about her face, tangled in the way it never was. There was smears of makeup on her cheeks and lips, her perfectly set clothes torn. She looks vulnerable, a delicate beauty. It was a stark contrast of what he knows of her. 

He swallows tightly, squeezing his arms around her. This, he would be able to give her this. Gripping her hand, clutching it tightly, he holds her palm. “I have never loved anyone the way I loved you.” 

She locks her eyes to his, a small, shaky gasp escaping her as her body trembles from it. “Thank you for lying to me.”

Her chest is heaving.

And then it’s not. 

Her wide, empty eyes slowly close.

There is nothing but Camille.

There is no Camille.

A burst of flame engulfs her body, burning bright red and orange before turning black and dark. And then she is gone.

Sound and movement return in a rush. Magnus knows, distantly, that he’s fallen to his hands, resting against the empty space that she had once been. He feels a weight being lifted from his very core, like a thread being finally pulled. He realizes that he is no longer bound to her.

He’s free.

He’s frozen, brittle. He hears voices, familiar voices. And then he hears his name being uttered by a voice that has haunted him.

 _Alexander_.

His eyes slowly trail up, unbelieving, dazed, seeing him for the first time after a year.

Alec stands a few feet away, his own hazel eyes stunned. He looks shaken and about to collapse before he utters Magnus’s name again.

Before Magnus can understand the notion of what is happening, he is being lifted, pulled into strong arms. They wrap around him as tightly as they could. He feels ragged breathing being muffled as they kiss his hair.

“You’re – you’re alive. Oh, by the angel, you’re safe …you’re alive,” Alec stumbles, voice breaking, leaving him hoarse. He settles Magnus’s lax head against his shoulder, rocking him into his arms. Magnus leans against him, placing his shaking hand over Alec's chest, feeling his heartbeat.

“You’re alive,” Alec whispers again as he takes a shuddering breath. “You’re alive.” He closes his eyes, squeezes them shut, tears slipping down his face. He crushes Magnus against him, breathing him in.

Magnus feels everything, and he feels nothing at all. So, he just stares, unseeing, at the empty space on the ground and lets Alec cry enough for the both of them.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? Sorry for the reaaaally long wait, kind of got behind with work and school but I'm back and decided to go ahead and continue with this story. I always planned on it being a short story so the ending will be coming soon!

 

 _You are not allowed_  
_to save him._  
            - j.p.

 

 

A calming vision of tranquil hazel and disheveled dark hair wavers and blurs in Magnus’s line of vision.

“Magnus,” a warm, familiar voice says quietly.

Pain tore at his side and Magnus’s eyes roll up in his head. Faintly, he hears Alec barking orders at someone. Then there was silence.

 

-

 

The next memory that envelopes him was that of blissful weightlessness – then seeping discomfort – and finally, the harsh fluorescent glare of artificial light pressing against his eyelids. Each stage of consciousness drags on for an indeterminable span of time. His eyes flutter open and for a moment the world was portrayed through a disorienting fisheye lens.

“Magnus?”

He squints and focuses on the voice.

“Magnus, can you hear me?”

Magnus wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Not –” His voice was hoarse from disuse. “Not exactly the way I’d hoped to see you again.” His quip fell short when there was no immediate response, but he felt a warm hand press gently against his cheek, smoothing down the planes of his neck.

He feels Alec’s forehead rest against his jaw, taking a deep breath. The exhale flutters against his skin and a deep ache begins to form in his chest, beating painfully. Alec’s hand cups his jaw, his thumb smoothing over his skin in delicate circles.

“I thought – I thought –“ There’s a deep, shaky exhale before Alec clears his throat. Magnus feels his skin wet, tears staining him but he realizes they’re not his. “I thought you were dead.” He tilts his head to the side, his eyes finding hazel eyes staring at him, wide and full of sorrow.

“I thought I lost you.”

 _But you did._ Magnus wants to say, instead he gives him a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, his fingers sweeping across Alec’s brow. “Camille had a spell cast over us, binding us together. Wherever she was, I needed to be at her side. She made sure everyone believed I was dead so no one would look for me.”

“Magnus,” Alec whispers, shifting beside him. “I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_.”

“Alexander, you couldn’t have known I was still alive,” Magnus murmurs, watching as Alec’s hand moves, reaching over to close around his own and after a moment he tangles their fingers together, slowly, cautiously.

“I know but – “ Alec takes a deep, shuddering breath. Alec’s eyes are focused intently on him and he finds himself gazing back. “I’m sorry that I – that I chose Jace.”

Silence.

Except for the steady beat of his heart on the monitor, their slow intake of breaths, the small raspy sound of his body shifting against the rumpled bed. Alec’s eyes meet his, dark and shadowed.

There’s a sudden chill in the air and Magnus feels numb to everything, everything except Alec’s hand holding his, his lips against his skin. He pulls away.

“Alexander, I understand why you chose him.” Magnus’ breath caught at his words and he froze for a moment. He looks into Alec’s eyes, and for a moment, he thinks that none of it should matter. The pain of not being his choice, the emptiness he had to endure with Camille. None of it should matter, but it does.

“He’s your brother, you parabatai, your – “ _someone that I could never be_. Somewhere deep inside, he had known this all along. He knew it would happen, from the very beginning. But it didn’t prevent him from becoming acutely aware of the fact that right at this moment, he will truly loose him. “I had only hoped that I could have had a piece of your heart as well.”

“Magnus, you did – you _do_ – _please_ listen …not a day went by that I didn’t …Magnus, please!” Magnus shudders at the mixture of _longing-pain-fear_ in Alec’s plea. He moves towards him, but Magnus moves away, and he visibly flinches at his reaction.

And then Magnus whispers, voice shattered and raw. “Alexander, I just, I need to be alone right now.”

“Magnus, I’m …I’m sorry,” he whispers back desperately, but Magnus is looking away. _I want you to know that I realized I couldn’t live without you._ Alec thinks, taking a deep breath, holding back his tears. _When you were gone, you took the whole world with you. After you, everything was empty. I was empty._

He doesn’t say any of it. Instead, he gently, delicately grabs Magnus’ face, his fingers wrapping around strands of dark hair, and rests his lips against his forehead. He kisses him deeply and slowly, memorizing his taste and searing this moment. “I love you.”

Crestfallen, Magnus stays still, listening as his footsteps echo and fade before the sharp sound of the door opening and closing sounds in the distance.

Then it was quiet. And for the first time in his life Magnus realizes he was not fond of the silence.

 

-

 

“Magnus, what are you thinking of?”

He’s reclining against the pillows, the familiarity of her voice giving him momentary comfort. He gazes toward Catarina, smiles but he knows she can see through his façade.

“Just pondering my existence,” he says. “Life, death, reality TV, that sort of thing.” His quip falls short and he gazes out the window again.

“Jace came by earlier and left you a note. He wants to speak to you,” Catarina says, breaking the silence. She pushes a strand of his hair away from his forehead, her fingers grazing his skin before she gently touches his cheek and turns his face to her. “You can’t keep avoiding him.”

Magnus doesn’t cry. He wasn’t one for tears, despite being seen as dramatic by many. And yet, he feels his lips tremble, his eyes sting. His hands shake, and he laces them together to keep them still.

“I hate him,” he says. “I hate Jace.”

“You don’t. You never did,” she replies.

Magnus wants to lash out, a petty comfort, but he can’t find the energy within himself to start the action. It would mean so little, compared to everything else.

“A part of me wishes that I could hate him, that I could blame him for everything.” Magnus wants that, more than anything. But he can’t. He understands why Alec chose Jace. He was family, his parabatai, his duty. He wouldn’t be the man he loved if he didn’t. But the pain, the pain that has prominently taken a part in his heart is still there and it never goes away.

Catarina lays her head against Magnus’ shoulder. “You never were like anyone else,” she whispers into the crook of his neck.

After a moment, she guides his shaking hands over the rumpled, folded note in her hand. His name elegantly written at the front. When he makes no move to receive it, her hand guides his and opens the paper.

_He loves you. He never stopped loving you. Don’t ever forget that._

His head bows forward, and his lip trembles fiercely as he tries to stave his tears off. He jolts hard when warm hands squeeze around his shoulders then slip their way down his back. He lets out a shaky sigh as Catarina presses one soft kiss to his cheek then drops her forehead on his shoulder and just holds on to him, calm, steady, unhurried, without question or remark.

He tries to let Jace’s words soothe him, heal him, but there’s still tendrils of that darkness clinging to his heart that makes it impossible.

He crumbles the paper and lets it fall to the floor.

 

-

 

There’s a crash before a streak of blonde hair and blue eyes emerges.

“Jace, what on earth – “

“Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.” His voice has a slight tone of teasing amusement that always seems to be present in Jace’s voice, but it also sounds as if he were treading on thin ice.

Magnus gazes upwards, his eyes focus on Jace who’s upper body dangles from the opening of the ceiling. He finds himself almost smiling fondly. Almost.

“What do you want, blondy?”

Jace huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before his eyes trail slowly to the side. His smile disappears. “I don’t know where to start but …I know you’ve made your choice, and there’s nothing I can do,” he says. “But I want you - I  _need_  you to know something before you leave.”

Magnus has been feeling it for a while now - that sense of awakening. There is a gentle rage simmering inside of him, and it is getting stronger by the day. He doesn't want to hold onto it, but he can feel it down to his very core. And he can’t live like this. “Jace, I - “

“Please, just hear me out.” Jace takes a deep breath, his fingers tightening on the edge of the opening, his knuckles turning white. “He chose me and we thought you were dead and life went on without you. Of course, it did.” Magnus flinches and looks away, his arms enfold him. “But Alec, he -  _he_  wasn’t living. He wasn’t our Alec anymore. And every time he looked at me, I knew he wished I was you and I had to find a way to live with that. And now you’re back and for the first time, I can see a piece of our Alec coming back. But you …”

Jace trails off, clearing his throat. Dread is forming in Magnus’ gut. He's trying to move again and again, just to take a step, to grasp his phone out of his jacket pocket, to open his mouth. Anything, but he can't. “I know you need time. What you went through …I get it. It doesn’t mean you don’t love your life or the people in it. Sometimes when one yearns to be selfish, it means they have been selfless for too long.”

His face falls and he sighs, defeated. “Which is why I’m not here to tell you tomorrow is another day. That the sun will go on shinning and all that bullshit. What I will tell you is this, it’s okay to be hurting as much as you are. What you are feeling is not only completely valid but necessary. And though I can’t promise it will get better any time soon, I can tell you that it will - eventually. For now, all you can do is take your time. Take all the time you need. We’ll be here.”

Jace’s tone was understanding, but there was a sadness there that keeps him assured that Jace wants him to stay. “Alec will be here. Because he loves you, he still does. He hasn’t stopped. I don’t think he can. I don’t think he ever will.”

For a moment, it’s silent, the kind that feels oppressive, crushing. Magnus can't stay any longer, he can't trust himself. He needs to get some distance, force sense into him, look at this rationally, make plans... but he's so full of so many feelings, above all anguish, and he's left helpless, again. 

But the second their eyes meet, he halts.

“So, I get it. If you need to go …it’s okay. I’ll be here for Alec even if he doesn’t want me to. It’ll be okay because it has to be.”

And with nothing else to say, Jace closes the small opening of the ceiling and he is gone.

 

-

 

There’s commotion outside the door. Magnus pauses, his fingertips – orbs of light dancing off his hands stops in mid-air. He only has time to lower his hand, the portal flickering before the door flies open.

Magnus stands just as Alec is crashing into him. Magnus, instinctively buries his face into Alec’s neck, lips pressing to Alec’s skin. Alec feels Magnus’ heart beating and inhales a shuddering breath.

“You’re really here,” Alec rasps. “I had another nightmare where you —”

Alec’s lungs fill. A choked sob escapes from his throat. Magnus kisses the tears from Alec’s cheeks when Alec should be the one who is comforting him.

“Don’t cry, darling. I’m here, I’m alive,” Magnus says, his voice cracking. Magnus cradles Alec’s face—soft hands, warm skin, and the reassuring weight of Magnus’ magic surrounding him. For a moment, they stand there before Alec’s eyes scan the room.

He stills. Searches Magnus’ face. “You were going to leave. Without saying anything.”

It wasn’t a question. Magnus nods gravely. He reaches out with one hand and cups Alec’s cheek again, then he leans in and kisses him.

It was soft at first, tender. Magnus lightly traces the outlines of Alec’s features with his fingertips as he kisses him, like his fingers were pencils and he was drawing Alec back into existence. Then it becomes urgent, passionate, almost frantic.

Alec wants to respond with the same urgency, the same need to feel Magnus underneath his hands, the same urge to feel alive and whole. He wants to chase Magnus’ touch and reassure himself that Magnus was really back. But he can’t. He can’t deny that somehow, this kiss is a goodbye.

He instantly pulls away, his breath deep, his skin burning. “Please, Magnus, don’t. Don’t do this. I – I can’t lose you again.”

Magnus swallows, forces his fingers to release Alec. He runs a hand behind his ear and swears he sees red. Decades of practice keep the panic from showing on his face, but he has to close his eyes for a beat. “I just need time. I’m alive, isn’t that enough – “

“Of course it’s enough, it’s more than enough!” Magnus steps back, his eye wide at the force of Alec’s voice. “But I – I want to be selfish. I want to be there for you, however you need me. I spent every single day regretting my decision and I – by the angel – I prayed that you were alive, that I could go back in time and …how I hated myself every single day because every time I saw Jace, I couldn’t, I couldn’t – I just wanted you alive, _alive_ because I love you so much – I couldn’t fucking _live_ , not without you!” Alec draws in air unsteadily. “And I would give everything to have you smile again, for you to look at me like before. So, please, don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”

Magnus feels all of the blood drain from his face, his eyes, wide and disbelieving. He stumbles backwards, trying to create space between them but Alec grabs him, bringing their lips together roughly. Magnus tries to resist at first, but Alec holds him tightly, crushing Magnus against himself and kissing him with searing intent, as if he wants to physically chase away the pain and grief from Magnus’ body.

Finally, Magnus whimpers, surrendering; his arms smooth up to wrap around Alec and he lets his head fall back slightly, allowing himself to drown in the kiss.

“I don’t want to need you anymore,” Magnus whispers hoarsely, even as Alec’s hands start to divest him of his clothes. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to …not again…”

“I know,” Alec soothes, gentle and steady, lifting Magnus up as if he weighs nothing and lowering him slowly on the bed.

Alec looks at him, eyes unguarded and bare, and the sight is killing Magnus. Alec kisses him again, lightly, and starts to move, so slow and even that, at another time, would have been maddening. Magnus watches him, watches every motion – every slight crease in Alec’s expression, every feeling flashing in his eyes.

“Magnus,” Alec mumbles, eyes dropping close. “I just got you back, don’t go. You’re my everything.”

Magnus wavers, he’s been longing to hear that for _so long_. Now that he finally does, he can’t take it. There is so much grief in Alec’s eyes – grief over their separation, over his absence, over the beauty that was them, together, and that will soon be over; already sentenced, awaiting the execution.

“Please, Magnus,” Alec whispers. “Stay.” Magnus wilts against him and Alec pulls him in close, pressing their foreheads together.

“Alexander.” Magnus kisses him slowly–sadly–then slides his cheek against Alec’s, lips brushing his ear. “Please, my love. I need you to let me go.”

Alec closes his eyes, a searing pain rests in his heart as a chocked sob escapes him. He cups Magnus’ face and kisses him, hard, deep and desperate, and he knows at that moment that this is the end.

When he awakens, he feels empty.

Magnus is gone.

 

 

 

_You can love him, but you can’t keep him._

                              - j.p.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning how to live ...without you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, short chapter but also pretty angst-y. Next chapter will be the end. Let me know your thoughts!

 

 

> You love each other,  
>  you do,  
>  and here’s the tragedy:  
>  it’s not enough.
> 
>                - j.p

 

**Magnus**

 

It’s a Tuesday and Magnus has made pancakes for breakfast. Blueberry with fresh whip cream and slices of strawberry on the side.

There are beams of light cascading through the window of the loft, illuminating flecks of dust that dance around him gracefully as he slides into the chair.

There’s a knock on the door.

The facets of the blue gemstone of his ring catch the light as his hand freezes in mid-air. The small clatter and clanks of his fork and knife, as he sets them down, echo in the otherwise silent space.

He steps towards the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob and stops. For a moment, he thinks he will open the door. But he curls his fingers, gripping his hand tightly and doesn’t move. Instead, he leans his forehead against the door.

“How did you find me?” Magnus stares, unseeing at his feet. He knows if he opens the door, he won’t be able to close it.

“Catarina,” Alec says, his voice muffled by the separation of the door. “Don’t – don’t be mad at her.”

“Alexander, you can’t keep doing this – I need to be on my own. I need to learn how to – “ _love myself. How to_ live _again_.

“Yes, I know,” Alec says. There’s a pause. “I just – I just needed to hear your voice again. Just one more time.”

With his eyes closed, Magnus feels the tension and anger seep out of him. “What I went through, it doesn’t just go away Alexander. I can’t …ask you to wait for me.”

“You’re not asking, I’m doing it.”

“What if it takes …what if it takes forever?” _What if it takes your life time?_

“Then I’ll wait forever.” There’s a muffled thump as Alec’s fist hits the doorframe. “Please, Magnus …” _don’t disappear again_ , seems to be unsaid.

Magnus swallows against the sudden tightness that fills his throat, closing his eyes for a long moment and taking several deep breaths to calm his racing heart before he feels like he can trust himself to speak. “Goodbye, Alexander.”

He hears the doorknob rattle and Alec’s muted pleas before he walks through a portal. He walks away without a backward glance.

 

-

 

He has forgiven him, but he can’t forget.

 

-

 

Magnus had visited Catarina, once a week, no matter where he was in the world. Sometimes, he’d sit and they’d talk, never about _him_ , keeping it light and personal even when the weight of his heartbreak weighed him down.

But after realizing Catarina shared hints of his location to _him_ , Magnus severed his visits.

_I’m sorry, Magnus. He’s my friend, too._

He calls her, every so often, sometimes it’d be only for a few seconds, just to hear her voice and know that she was well.

Then one day she doesn’t answer.

A simple text replaces her voice.

An address and a time.

He hesitates but visits the location. It’s a cold night, windy and clear, the stars set against the inky black sky like twinkling diamonds when he finds a letter perched against the wooden bench.

_To Magnus  
From Alexander_

 

-

 

It takes him three days before he can open the letter.

It takes him another two to read it.

 

-

 

_Here are the things I want for you._

_I want you to be happy. I want you to visit that little boutique you always talk about in Paris. I want you to drink a cup of your favorite coffee from Venezuela and gaze at the beautiful scenery you always told me about. Travel the world, smile._

_I want you to know how happy you made me. And if you’re happy now, Magnus, that’s enough for me because that’s all ever want for you._

_I want you to live Magnus, to live a long and happy life._

_I love you. I will always love you. And I’ll wait for you, for as long as it takes. I want you to know that most of all._

_Alexander._

 

-

 

He feels the despair seep into his being, sees the anguish clear in his eyes for the serenity he never had, for the pain and loss that have dogged his steps since the day he was born.

And for the first time in his long life, Magnus lets himself break so he can be pieced back together the right way.

 

-

 

 

**Alec**

The sunlight blinds him as he left one of the empty warehouses, stepping onto the rain-soaked sidewalk. The storm had come to an end, long enough to let the sun light the concrete beneath his feet with its golden rays. He felt neither; not the slick concrete under his shoes or the stolen moment of sunlight that dapples across his shoulders.

The golden rays that filters through the trees only remind him of _his_ eyes, and he doesn’t want to feel the overwhelming pain again so soon. He keeps his head down and his hands fisted in his pockets as he walks.

He tries to ignore the footsteps following him, instantly knowing who they belong to. He can feel her watching him. He doesn’t say anything. His lips press together and bow, grimacing. He turns quietly and she stops in her tracks.

“Izzy, you really need to learn how to be discreet.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” She walks steadily next to him as he resumes his slow walk.

There’s a moment when he wants to keep the silence between them, to keep the pain inside because somehow, it’s still bearable, where he can hide it from the world. But he remembers their conversation from earlier and he knows Isabella will keep searching for answers.

He hesitates.

“You asked me earlier if I was okay,” he murmurs, his brow furrows deeply. She halts and so does he. “I wasn’t, really. Haven’t been in a long time,” he admits, and she nods, her eyes meeting his. “But I have this stupid hope in my chest that, one day I could be if _he_ \- if he comes back to me.”

Alec swallows, his throat dry. He feels a sudden tightness in his stomach and a sting in his eyes. He glances away, his eyes catching the light before he closes them. The emotions welling up inside him are a little bit of everything – intense, sorrow and misery – wholly overwhelming.

“He will, big bro,” she says, feeling a feign of optimism as a smile starts to spread on her face. “I know he will. One day.”

 

-

 

One day turns into a month.

A month into six.

A year passes.

Then two.

There’s a gray haze in Alec’s vision that lingers since Magnus disappeared that day he found him residing in the French Riviera. The sun that Tuesday morning is seared in his mind. Scorching his clarity of purpose. Incinerated the promise that Magnus would return to him.

Somehow it becomes three years since he last kissed Magnus.

Four since he felt the softness of his skin.

Five since he felt the warmth of his magic and the brilliance of his smile.

Alec doesn’t understand how his heart is still beating.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoy!

 

“… _but even in his darkest hours,_  
_he knew in his heart that someday it would return to him,_  
_and his world would be whole again..."_

 

 

He didn’t notice the chill in the air as he walks to the Institute. The insulation of beer and scotch kept him warm and numb to everything, everything except his heartache. Respecting _his_ wishes, Alec rarely made contact with him, allowing his mask to crack only when his worry surpassed the point of reason.

He didn’t bother to zip up his leather jacket and it flaps around him haphazardly as he faces into the wind. He trudges his way over slick asphalt under the green glow of traffic lights.

He tries his best not to wrap his fingers around the cool, golden ring hanging across his neck.

 

-

 

He knew she would be there, but actually colliding with her in the shadows was unexpected.

“Hello, Catarina.”

She’s leaning against the bar, her side facing him. Small strands of her white hair have come undone from her intricate braid, falling over her eyes. She looks towards him and smiles.

“Hello, Alec. It’s been awhile.” He nods, unable to find an appropriate response. He glances to the dance floor and his eyes instantly find Izzy in her white dress, with Simon next to her. Izzy whispers something in Simon’s ear and they both laugh, their foreheads leaning against one another.

He gestures to the couple and smiles. “Did you expect that?’

“No. Everyone always thought you and Magnus – “

“Don’t. Please.”

 

-

 

He’s not the same.

He doesn’t look the same. He doesn’t sound the same. He doesn’t feel the same.

He is Alec, though, that much Jace can tell. It might be that indefinable spark in his hazel eyes. It might be that streak of silent, dry humor that laces through most of his conversations. It might be those rare moments they team up for missions, their backs against each other. It might be that rolling feeling in his stomach that he’s always gotten when in Alec’s presence. 

They stare at each other across the table, unwilling to see anyone else but each other. 

Jace’s the first to speak.

“Hey.”

Alec smiles and it’s the same smile. It’s his Alec’s smile. “Hey.”

Suddenly, this change doesn’t seem so bad. He might have lost a big part of Alec, but he would hold on to whatever was left. Nothing ever seems so bad when they’re together.

 

-

 

“I know we discussed this before but – are you sure you want this?”

It’s not the first time Alec has been alone with Clary, though instead of awkward silence it appears they’re going to have a meaningful conversation. He can barely suppress his grimace. “Of course, I want it.”

“Don’t do it for him.”

Alec startles and turns towards her. “What do you mean?”

“The only way it’ll work is if you do this for yourself. I know you love him, but you don’t know what the future holds. So, do this for yourself.”

He lets out a gruff laugh, shaking his head slightly as his eyes trail over the runes decorating his arm. “For the first time in my life Clary, I’m doing something for myself.”

Their eyes meet and understanding fills Clary’s eyes. She pushes the edge of her journal forward, her fore finger tapping lightly against the page. “It took me years, but I finally figured it out.”

He lays his palm out, his thumb trailing ever so delicately against the deep, charcoal sketch of the rune.

 _Immortality_.

He smiles.

 

-

 

 

The Hunter’s Moon has changed over the years, but still managed to keep some of its familiarity. Alec sits at the bar, nursing his second beer. He swivels the liquid in his glass, getting ready to leave.

That’s when the moment comes.

It’s strange really. Surreal. He’s been dreaming about it, fantasizing, wishing for so long that somewhere along the way he’s accepted its completely and utterly inevitability. It’s not a thrill, most certainly not a surprise. It’s as reliable as sunrise, though no less striking for it.

“Hi, Magnus.”

Magnus nods his head, a smile dancing along his lips. “Alexander.”

Alec looks at him smiling. On the surface, Magnus hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still beautiful as ever, still lean, black haired, and fluidly graceful, and his hands are still the most refined things he has ever seen. His eyes betray him, though. They look uncertain, a little lost.

“You look good,” Alec offers. There’s really no point discussing existential questions between the two of them. Everything had been said or not said a long time ago.

Magnus' lips twitch. “So do you, my dear.”

Alec contemplates his drink for a moment as Magnus takes a seat. “Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, his grin softer, now.

Magnus shakes his head, putting an empty beer glass to the side. “Another new High Warlock of Brooklyn has been appointed and he is an old, dear friend of mine,” he begins. “He has requested for my assistance to make the transition as smoothly as possible.”

Alec furrows his eyebrows. “Well, what’s the problem?”

Magnus eyes him carefully, his fingers, decorated in rings, lay still on the table. “I did not wish to accept it without clearing it with you first.”

Alec swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “I see.”

“Jace has informed me that you have long stepped down as Head of the Institute, but still maintain a large role in maintaining associations with the Downworld Council, mainly warlocks.” He pauses. “Alexander, you do not have to agree to this. I will understand.”

Alec knows his smile is breaking, but he tries anyway. “You’ve been in touch with Jace?” He didn’t mean for that to sound as an accusation. His tone has gotten away from him.

“You have been in contact with Catarina,” Magnus counters gently.

“Yeah, well,” Alec mutters, looking away. Silence lingers between the two again, and Alec is seized by a consuming urge to grab Magnus and never let go.  

“As I said,” Magnus reminds him quietly, “I can deny his request.”

Alec turns to look at him. His smile is pained, but he holds it. “Who am I to stand in the way?” He holds Magnus’ eyes as well.

Magnus looks at him, seemingly drowning in his gaze, and Alec fingers twitch toward his hand.

“Alec,” Magnus says softly. “We do not have to...”

Alec closes his eyes for a moment.

There is an ache in his heart for the imagined beauty of a life he could have had, from which he had been locked out, and it never goes away.

“No, we don’t,” Alec says.

 _I don’t want to need you anymore. Don’t you understand? I don’t want to … not again …_ Magnus words whisper against his ear.

Sliding off his seat, he wraps an arm around Magnus’ shoulders, and it still feels so _right_ , so perfect, like it never did with any other person. Magnus relaxes into his touch, shifting closer.

“I missed you,” Alec murmurs.

Magnus closes his eyes, leaning against him. “I am sorry, Alexander.”

“Yeah,” Alec exhales, nuzzling his neck. “Yeah. Me too.”

Magnus straightens up and pulls away, but it’s a smooth motion not an abrupt jerk. He turns to go, but after taking a couple of steps, stops, and glances at Alec again.

And that’s all Alec needs. Before Magnus knows it, Alec is gripping his arm, tipping his chip up, and the next moment they’re kissing.

Magnus pulls him close, shifting them into a better position with such an easy familiarity as if their last kiss happened yesterday, not ten years ago. It doesn’t feel like it has been ages; it just feels so right,  _right_ , and home, and tastes only of the present the way it always has.

Magnus pulls away and his eyes are bright, as he looks at Alec from beneath his eyelashes, flushed. “Alexander, I – “

“I don’t want to spend any more time with regrets and never get our chance.”

Magnus swallows and gently cups his cheek. “But what if we ruin it?”

“I know,” he says. “But what if we don’t?”

Magnus eyes glisten as they waver downward and stop upon seeing Alec’s open collar. Sees the golden ring hanging close to his heart. A new, convoluted rune decorating his pale chest near his heart. He somehow knows and doesn’t know the rune.

“Alexander is that – “

“A immortality rune? Yes.” His voice now unwavering, rough and thick from all the unspoken emotions it carried.

Magnus swallows soundly at that, his adam apple popping in his throat as his eyes were once again met with Alec’s face. “Alexander, _how_ …when …you can’t possibly have chosen immortality. You don’t understand the burden, the heartache, the pain that - ”

“But I do." Alec stops him. "Magnus …” It was a chant, filled with love and hidden traces of understanding which Magnus didn’t miss.

“I didn’t choose immortality. I chose you.” Big palms enclose Magnus’s slightly trembling hands, leading them towards Alec’s firm chest, allowing them to rest right on his beating heart. The all too familiar thuds shook Magnus’s frame, traveling from the tips of his ring-clad fingers to each and every fiber of his body.

"Don't you remember, Magnus. I will wait for you, for as long as it takes." 

He feels Alec trembling in his grasp, awaiting his choice. So this time, Magnus reaches up, threads Alec's fingers through his, and stays.

 

 

 

 _"The boy saw the comet and suddenly his life had meaning_.”

-Lucas Scott

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending I was planning from the very beginning was them not ending up together. But as the story progressed, I just couldn't find myself to not have Malec end up together or a hopeful ending. I might post the original ending chapter where Malec didn't end up together, but this is definitely the ending for this story. I felt that this ending seemed appropriate with this story. Thoughts? 
> 
> Thanks for all your love and comments for this story! Glad many of you enjoyed it and went on this roller coaster with me! Until next time!


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